


Stronger When I Hold You

by elfgirl931



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfgirl931/pseuds/elfgirl931
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets from the journey of Inquisitor Arinae Lavellan and Commander Cullen. Fluffy drabbles for the most part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wicked Grace

      The last thing Cullen wanted to do was take off his clothes in front of the entire tavern, but Arinae being there made it worse. In his weaker moments, he had certainly thought about being naked before her, but never like this. Still, his only other option was to been seen as a coward and a spoilsport, so he shrugged off his furred mantle and let it fall to the floor. Surely he wouldn’t lose another round.  
  
      He had evidently underestimated the wicked gleam in Josephine’s eyes. Soon, his boots, belt, and breastplate joined the mantle on the floor, and he was sweating. He noticed Arinae laughing along with the others, but she tried to look in any direction but his, and the tips of her ears had gone pink.  
  
      Next round, Josephine laid her cards triumphantly on the table and called for Cullen’s tunic. She met his glare with an innocent smile. His face was on fire, but he stood to strip it off, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from around their table. When it came over his head, he happened to glance at Arinae – her ears were bright red, and she stared at him with her mouth slightly open. When she noticed him looking, she hastily lowered her eyes and tried to take a drink from her mug, but only managed to spill half of her ale down her chin.  
  
      Cullen’s mortification only grew when Josephine won the last two rounds of the game and demanded his pants and finally his smalls in turn, pretending to be quite unaware of his fury. It was a relief when Varric finally called an end to the game. Cullen stayed seated when the others got up to leave, wondering how he was going to get back to his rooms without losing what little dignity he had left. His clothes seemed to have vanished, and Sera was markedly absent. That worry was pushed to the back of his mind when Arinae stood up from the table with Varric. She fixed him with a smile that he couldn’t quite interpret, and he almost forgot to run away when her back was turned.


	2. Dealing With My Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At this point they haven’t kissed or started a relationship but they’ve been flirting (after the chess game but before the kiss.) Arinae deals with the aftermath of Weisshaupt and the Fade.

Arinae sank down against the wall, feeling the cold of the stone leaching through her clothes. Her breath frosted in front of her as she looked up through the exposed beams of the roof. It was amazing that there were still undiscovered rooms after all the work that had been done to Skyhold, but she was grateful for the privacy. It was a relief to have even a moment where no one knew where she was.

She closed her eyes and let her head drop forward to rest on her knees. “Falon’Din, calm my soul,” she whispered. “Do not let me wander where I cannot return. Guide me back to - ”

A knock interrupted her. “Inquisitor? Are you in here?” The door opened a crack and Cullen’s face appeared. “Forgive me for interrupting, but I -  everyone was worried.” 

“It’s all right, Cullen. I just… had to be alone for a bit. My room felt too big. Is that strange?”

He walked towards her, a bit of hesitation in his step. “May I?” At her nod, he sat down across from her. “And no, it’s not strange at all. That tower room is practically big enough to house a garrison.”

Arinae laughed, but she knew she sounded halfhearted. “I wanted to be in the garden, but there are always so many people in there, even at night. I can’t take any more people asking me if I’m all right.”

“Then I certainly will hold off my next question until later.” This time, Cullen’s lopsided smile was catching. She couldn’t help herself when she looked at him. But his face turned serious after a moment. “Cole told me where to find you. He said he could feel that you were hurt, but in your heart. It made me… well, worried for you.” He looked down at his hands and swallowed. “Would it help you to unburden yourself? To tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. It was my body being in the Fade, I think,” Arinae said slowly. “I can’t shake the feeling off. I’ve been there dozens of times, with my Keeper and alone, but it’s different when you’re dreaming. It felt… I don’t know. It made my skin crawl.” She couldn’t suppress the little tremor that ran down her neck and through her shoulders, and her hands tightened into fists.

      “It was cold there, and it felt… oily, somehow. I’ve washed so many times since we got back but I can still feel it on me and I’m afraid to go to sleep.” The words rushed out of her like a river bursting out of thawing spring ice, and she realized there were tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t stop. “Some First I am. Some mage, some Inquisitor. I’m afraid to even go to sleep. I’m afraid that I’ll be back in that nightmare again.” The tears spilled out of her eyes then, creating hot rivulets down her cheeks.

Cullen caught her hands and eased them out of their fists and into his. “It’s all right to be afraid,” he said quietly. “It’s all right.” 

Arinae looked up from their clasped hands to see him looking at her with such an open, earnest expression on his face that she almost had to look away. He truly believed in her, and did not think that she was weak. That in itself seemed a miracle.

“I know what it’s like to be afraid to go to sleep,” he continued. “After Kinloch hold, the healers had to drug me. And you are so much stronger than I am. I know that you’ll be able to get through this, even if it takes you time.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them gently. 

Arinae had no idea what to say in the face of such faith, and she didn’t trust herself to speak without stuttering - her hands where Cullen’s lips had touched them stayed warm in the chill of the tower room. So instead of words, she found some hidden depth of courage and kissed Cullen’s cheek, lending him some of the warmth he’d given to her. 


	3. Journey South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to the dock near Cullen's childhood home, the Inquisitor and Cullen have a moment. Or two.

      Cullen studied the Inquisitor as they rode south. Here, under the cool shadows cast by the trees, she looked happier than he’d ever seen her. The reins were loose in her hands, and she let her hart pick its way through the tree roots on and rocks on its own. Once, she closed her eyes and a tiny smile graced her lips. Before he could ask what made her smile, Arinae turned her head and grinned at him.   
        “I’ll race you to the river,” she said, gesturing ahead. Without waiting for his agreement, she took off, the hart’s hooves kicking up dust. Cullen spurred his warhorse to follow just a second too late. He could hear her laughing up ahead, and no matter how much ground he gained on her, the hart stayed in the lead.   
      They splashed and thundered across the shallow part of the river, and when they reached the other side, Arinae gracefully leapt down before her mount had even stopped moving. She was still laughing, and Cullen decided he didn’t mind losing in the least.  
      “You’re quite the rider,” he remarked as he climbed down from his horse.   
      “Well, I’ve ridden all my life. He’s just like a big halla. Aren’t you, sweetheart?” Arinae patted the hart affectionately and laid her cheek against its neck.   
      “Well, you and your … sweetheart get something out for lunch,” Cullen laughed. “I’ll be right back.”   
      He stole a look back at her while walking the perimeter of the little clearing they’d ended up in. She murmured and cooed at their mounts while giving them water and sang to herself while pulling dried food from the saddlebags. Perhaps it was silly, but even such small things about her made his heart glad. Maker knew they could both use some peace.  
      Cullen’s purpose in setting out was ostensibly to scout for danger, but he’d noticed wildflowers dotting the bases of the trees. The further he walked, the thicker they grew, until he found himself standing in a sea of white and purple. He bent down and cut enough to make a small bouquet, regretting that he didn’t have some sort of ribbon to tie it together. In fact, as he walked back towards the clearing, he wondered if Arinae would even want the bouquet. They were just wildflowers, after all, and for all he knew, giving flowers to a Dalish woman could be some sort of insult.  
      Nevertheless, he held the bouquet out to her with a bow when he reached the clearing. “For you, my lady,” he said, praying that his face hadn’t gone red.  
      “Thank you, Cullen,” she said softly, bringing the flowers close to her face to smell them. “They’re beautiful.” And the smile she gave him then melted away any apprehension he might have had left. She tucked the flowers into the lip of her saddlebag so the blossoms showed.  
      After they ate and rode on, Cullen found himself telling her embarrassing stories about his childhood in Honnleath, just to hear her laugh again. In turn, Arinae told him about the things she’d seen traveling with her clan, and her voice grew wistful.  
      “You miss them, don’t you?” he asked.  
      “Of course I do. They’re my family. But,” she added, smiling at him again, “it’s not all bad. If I hadn’t left them, I never would have met you.”  
      Cullen had no ready answer for that.  He reached across the gap and took her hand, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss on her knuckles. He hoped that though his words failed, she’d be able to see just how grateful he was to be with her. 


	4. Tranquil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Cullen's many nightmares

_“It has only been a day, Commander Cullen. They won’t kill her – they need her as leverage.”_  
      Josephine’s words echoed in Cullen’s head as he burst into the Red Templar camp and hacked down a surprised sentry. Behind him he could hear Cassandra and Blackwall shouting and the clack of Varric’s crossbow as he reloaded, but he soon left them behind, cutting down anyone in his way. These men might have been his brothers-in-arms, once, but now all he saw was the red glimmering of their armor as they died.   
      “Inquisitor?” he called hoarsely, looking into one tent after another. Each one was empty. “Arinae?”  
      “I am here, Ser Cullen.”  
      Cullen turned slowly, cold threads of horror knotting around his stomach before he even saw her. Arinae stood calmly behind him. Her long, lovely hair with all its braids had been shorn roughly off, leaving nothing but uneven fuzz on her skull. An angry red sunburst stood out on her forehead, and his world shattered. He dropped his sword and shield on the ground with a dull thud. _No_.  
        “Does this not please you, Ser?” Arinae intoned, looking down at him. Her eyes were like unpolished green stones. “Were you not a Templar too? They told me that this was what all Templars wished for mages.”  
        Cullen sank to his knees and clutched at her hands, though they were lifeless and did not grip his in turn. He buried his face in the front of her robes whispering _no, no, no,_ as sobs racked his body. Through it all, she stood still and looked down at him impassively. No more songs from her lips, no more of her Dalish stories or her laughter or earnestness or bravery. She was gone, and she thought it was what he wanted.  
      And then he woke up suddenly, cold and trembling and sweating. He was used to various nightmares, had had them for years now, but this one was different. Worse, somehow.  
       Cullen turned his head and saw Arinae sleeping next to him, breathing softly with her mouth open and one hand curled around his arm. Her hair fell unbound in waves around her face, and her vallaslin was the only pattern traced across her forehead. He put an arm around her carefully, exhaled shakily, and rested his forehead on hers. Despite his gentle touch, her eyes opened and she blinked sleepily.  
      “What time is it?” she asked with a yawn, snuggling closer to him.  
      “Very early,” Cullen said quietly, struggling to keep his roiling emotions out of his voice.  
    Arinae frowned. “Are you all right, _ma vhenan_?”  
     “I’ll be all right,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. “Go to sleep.”  
     With a sleepy grunt of assent, Arinae shifted still closer to him and fell back asleep almost immediately. It was a long time before Cullen could follow her. Fear threatened to plunge him straight back into nightmares again, but then Arinae mumbled in her sleep and rubbed her nose in his chest hair. He smiled despite himself and kissed the top of her head, and finally found himself able to drift off peacefully.


	5. Burdened by the Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arinae has trouble dealing with her experiences in Emprise du Lion. Cullen does his best to comfort her.

      When Arinae came back to Skyhold after three weeks in Orlais, Cullen was waiting for her at the gates. The first sight she had of him was his back to the sun, turning his hair to liquid gold. Of course, he was there ostensibly as the commander of her forces – a nod of the head and a murmured “Inquisitor,” was his only greeting. But Arinae knew his tells by now - the way he tightened his hand on the pommel of his sword said he was holding himself back from taking her in his arms and kissing her in front of the entire courtyard.

“Why don’t we meet in your office?” she suggested. “I have some things to discuss with you about the situation in Emprise du Lion.”

“Of course,” Cullen answered. He was all smooth politeness and professionalism, asking friendly questions about their journey back and whether they’d encountered any trouble. The very picture of a perfect commander - until the door of his office shut behind them.

 

 

  
      Immediately he pulled her into his arms for a kiss, drinking her in like a man in the desert long denied water. Arinae leaned into him, twining her arms about his neck, but it wasn’t _enough_. Even when he pushed her back against the door and deepened the kiss, cupping his hands gently on her cheeks, she knew she’d never get enough of him. When Cullen finally pulled away to rest his forehead against hers, she felt his trembling exhale of breath matching her own.

  


      “I was so worried,” he murmured. “You were gone for so long.”

“I sent reports with the scouts.”

“That’s what made me worried,” he insisted. “Those red Templars could have – ”

“Let’s not talk about that now,” Arinae cut him off. The things she’d seen in Emprise du Lion were the _last_ thing she wanted to talk about, especially when Cullen’s mouth hovered over hers so enticingly. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again, but before she could try any more of her tricks, Cullen hooked his arms under her legs to wrap them around his waist. “Are we going to make it to the bed this time?”

“We can certainly try, but I can’t make any promises,” he muttered, kissing his way down her neck.

“Oh, your poor desk,” Arinae laughed, and felt Cullen smiling when his lips found hers again.

They did not, in fact, make it to the bed until their second round. Afterwards, she curled up against him, pillowing her head on his chest and letting him stroke her back with his fingertips. Sleep took them both quickly, he from relief at having her in his arms again and she from simple exhaustion. The journey from Orlais was a long one, and she was happy to sleep in a bed again.

Usually, it was Cullen who was plagued by nightmares, but that night they found Arinae instead. She was back in Emprise du Lion, listening to the warm, sickening hum of the red lyrium jutting from the ground. Cages surrounded her, cages full of people crying and screaming and begging for death as the red crystals pushed out of their bodies, through their fingers and their eyes and their shoulders with a sound like breaking needles. Her breath puffed in the cold air as she struck down one red Templar after another, their blood mingling in the snow with splinters of red lyrium.

She turned around, only to see Cullen, _her_ Cullen, pushed to his knees by two other Templars. They forced his mouth open and poured a vial of glowing red down his throat, laughing as he fell to the ground and writhed. There was a terrible screaming sound cutting out everything else, and Arinae realized it was coming from her own mouth. When she reached his side, Cullen had fallen still, but his eyes were open and glowing that terrible red, and his hands reached to clutch her throat –

And she jolted herself awake with a quiet gasp, her whole body trembling and tears running down her cheeks to soak her pillow. Cullen made a muffled sound in his sleep and turned towards her, his arms seeking her automatically. His eyes opened when he felt her shaking, and he immediately he pushed himself up on one elbow to look down at her.   


       “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep. 

       “Cullen, the templars… they can’t know what they’re doing when they take the red lyrium. They just can’t.”

        Cullen frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “Perhaps some of them don’t,” he said slowly. “Where is this coming from?”

      “I can’t believe what they become,” Arinae whispered, leaning her head on his chest and letting more tears leak from her eyes. “I can’t believe the things they do to people. I can’t….”

  
       “T hat’s why we have to stop Samson.” Cullen pressed his lips to her forehead and then her cheeks, kissing her tears until they were gone from her face. “He won’t be able to hurt or trick anyone else.”  
  


      She nodded and burrowed closer to his side, too tired and wrung out to say anything else. Cullen tightened his arms around her, as if to shelter her from her fears with his strength alone. For that night, at least, it was enough for her. 


	6. An Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attempt on the Inquisitor's life within the walls of Skyhold leaves Cullen shaken.

Cullen stared at the reports stacked neatly on his desk. The one in front of him contained important information on troop transport to the Western Approach, but he read the same sentence four times before anything could sink in. His eyes were drawn instead to the folded piece of paper at the corner of his desk – one that had been unceremoniously dropped on his head that morning by one of Leliana’s messenger crows. He couldn’t help reaching for it again, unfolding it and smoothing the worn creases to read it even though he had the contents memorized.

_Cullen,_ it read, _We’re finally finished in the Plains and are on our way back, thank the Creators. It has been a difficult few weeks. I’ve only just now had time to write. We’ve lots of stories to tell, but I’ll keep this short and tell you about it in person. You can expect us back at Skyhold this evening or no later than tomorrow morning. - Arinae_

Cullen folded the note and set it firmly in its place at the corner of his desk. He would _not_ look at the thing again – he had work to do. He picked up the Western Approach report again and plodded through it, and then the next three reports in the stack. As sunset drew closer, he turned around and looked out his tiny window again and again. He found excuses to walk the battlements, straining his gaze toward the path leading up to Skyhold’s bridge, but the fading light made it impossible to see if anyone was coming from so far away. His stomach clenched in knots. _She **said** she was coming back. Maker, bring her back. _

A shout from one of the sentries stopped Cullen from returning to his office. Soon the call came up from the forward posts that the Inquisitor and her party were climbing the path, and Cullen’s shoulders let out tension he hadn’t even known they’d been holding. It had been too many weeks since he’d seen Arinae. He watched her come slowly into view across the long bridge – she was laughing at Varric and Cassandra’s obvious bickering, and her reddish hair caught the sunset like a flash of gold, even this far away.

“Seeing her after so long, my heart soars like a long-caged bird suddenly feed,” someone muttered close to his ear. Cullen flinched when he saw Cole crouched on the crenellated wall that had been empty only seconds before. 

“Cole,” he ventured cautiously, giving the briefest of nods. 

“She’s weary,” the spirit said solemnly, nodding towards Arinae, who had now stepped between Cassandra and Varric with a firm gesture towards the gate. “Such a relief to be back,” he added softly, still staring down at the Inquisitor. “It will be so good to have a bath, sleep in my own bed, sleep in his arms again, it’s been so long….”

Cullen cleared his throat and did his best to ignore Cole’s muttering. As if she’d heard, Arinae looked up at them and waved before passing under them and through the portcullis. Cullen nodded to Cole again and started for the stairs. He kept his pace slow, doing his best to hide how badly he wanted to run into Arinae’s arms and kiss her for all the world to see.

But suddenly Cole was ahead of him, muttering frantically and drawing his daggers. “Now or never, it’s now or never. Stay calm, wait for her to get close. The Elder One will reward me, everything will be worth it, here she is, here she is, stay calm. Don’t let anyone see.”

Cullen followed as quickly as he could, loosening his sword in its sheath for an easy draw. Dread and adrenaline rolled through his stomach like a sickness. Cole vanished into the crowd of onlookers, well-wishers and servants gathered at the foot of the stairs, but Cullen had to shoulder his way through. No one seemed to want to get out of his way. 

Just before he reached the gate, he heard Arinae scream, and the sound hit him as squarely as an arrow to his chest. The crowd scattered as a great spike of ice burst up in front of her, tinged with a sickly green light that could only come from her mark. Cullen pushed through the panicked crush of people, ignoring their shouts as he drew his sword.

      He found a grim tableau at the gate: Cassandra stood with her sword pointed to the chest of a short, balding, and thoroughly nondescript man wearing frost-burned servant’s clothes. The Seeker’s face was contorted with fury, but she stood still and firm as a statue, leveling her foot against the assassin’s throat. Varric restrained Cole by his arms, whispering soothingly to him though his own hands shook. _You can’t kill him now, kid. They’ve got to question him first._

And Arinae sat crumpled on the ground, curled into herself with pain and cradling her hand to her chest. Her face was deathly white and her vallaslin stood out like dark slashes on her skin, but she was alive. There was blood everywhere, flowing from a long, deep slash from her wrist to her elbow. Solas knelt next to her, his face pinched as he ran a blue-glowing hand over her mark.

As Cullen walked forward, he fought hard against the impulse to drop down next to her and take her face in his hands and ask if she was all right. He had to content himself with a brief touch to her shoulder as he caught her eye. She gave him a small, tight nod – everyone was watching, and it would not do either of them any good to lose their heads. Right now, she was the Inquisitor, and he was the Commander. Arinae’s attention was quickly lost in a low cry of pain when Solas prodded the cut edge of her mark with his fingertip. 

Cullen closed his eyes briefly and then began barking orders to those standing about. A lockdown of Skyhold for starters, no one in or out and all entrances guarded. A search for accomplices next, questioning of new recruits and servants. Sister Leliana had to be fetched immediately, and then Cassandra had to be persuaded to remove her foot from the assassin’s throat so he could be chained and taken to the dungeon. In all the flurry of activity, Cullen nearly missed the stretcher that came to take Arinae up to the healers. He saw her being borne up the stairs, her eyes shut tight and her hand clenched to her chest again. His own eyes closed against the sight, and then he was moving again, demanding updates and ordering checkpoints set up throughout the fortress.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Thankfully the assassin seemed to have been working alone, and the rest of the servants and newer recruits were innocent. Leliana ordered the man to be kept alive for the Inquisitor’s judgment at a later date, and then ordered Cullen out so that she could finish the interrogation. He opened his mouth to protest, but she put a hand firmly on his arm. “The Inquisitor needs you to be there when she wakes. Let me finish this.”  


Solas was just leaving the infirmary when Cullen got there. The elf looked exhausted but reasonably calm as he closed the door behind him. “What news?” Cullen asked nervously.

“She is very lucky,” Solas answered. “The blade was poisoned with something that I have never seen before. A base of ferlandaris, but somehow mixed in with red lyrium and other components. If the Inquisitor had not reacted as quickly as she did, it would have gone straight into the anchor.”

“What would it have done?”

“I am… unsure. Perhaps it would have simply killed her. Perhaps it would have corrupted the anchor, made her a thrall to Corypheus. Thankfully we do not have to find out, as the assassin missed his target. As a poison on its own, it is very dangerous, but I believe that she will be all right. I am off to tell the others.” Solas nodded gravely to Cullen and walked towards the great hall, the night’s breeze kicking up as he went.

There were only a few candles burning in the infirmary. Arinae was tucked into a bed on the other side of the room, and even in the dim light, Cullen could see that her color already looked better. He swallowed and walked the length of the room to her bedside, nodding to the guards stationed there. “You may leave us for now. Station yourselves outside the door.” The men saluted crisply and left him to sit in the chair next to the bed.  


Close up, Arinae still looked a bit pale. Her left hand and arm were swathed in bandages, but she looked like she was sleeping peacefully, likely thanks to the uncorked sleeping tonic on the bedside table. Cullen gently grasped her uninjured hand and let his head sink down until his lips just touched it.

  
“ There is no darkness in the Maker’s Light,” he intoned softly. “And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost….” He would have gone on, but then he glanced up at Arinae’s face to see her eyes open and her lips quirked up in a tired smile.    


“I’m glad you’re finally here,” she said, squeezing his hand.

Cullen felt his heart lift to see her awake and smiling. There in the candlelit dimness of the infirmary, he did all the things he couldn’t do in the open air of the courtyard – kisses pressed to her hand, her cheek, and finally her lips, each one a silent apology and unspoken joy that she was alive. 

Arinae drew slowly away after a moment, but kept hold of his hand. “I see where your mind has gone, you know,” she said quietly, settling back on her pillows. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

“It happened within a hundred paces of my own office,” he protested, letting some of his internal anguish bleed into his voice. “If Cole hadn’t said something, I would never have known until it was too late.”

“It’s a good thing Cole was there, then. And you know I’m not exactly defenseless,” she said with a smile. “Cassandra said that my ice spell was so powerful that the man had frostbite. I have to say I’m rather proud of myself.”

“He deserved it, and more besides,” Cullen growled, tightening his grip on her hand. 

“Cullen, enough,” she said gently. “He’ll be judged. It’s not the first time someone has tried to kill me, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

“If I could keep you from all this – ”

“You would,” Arinae finished. She pulled him down into another kiss. “And that is why I love you.”


	7. Sick Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has a cold, and of course tries to deal with it on his own.

     “Inquisitor, have you seen Cullen today?”

      Arinae looked up from her lap harp and squinted up at Cassandra, using one hand to shade her eyes from the bright morning sun. “I haven’t, why?”

      “He did not come to spar with me this morning as he usually does,” the Seeker said with a frown. “I am told that he missed a meeting with Josephine as well. I wondered if he had spent the morning with you.”

       “No, he was busy most of yesterday. I haven’t seen him.” Arinae stood up and set herharp in its caseagainst the trunk of the tree. “I’ll go look in his office. I’m sure he’s just buried in his work, as usual.”

       Cassandra made a noncommittal grunt and set off towards her practice dummies. Arinae turned her steps towards the battlements and Cullen’s office. It certainly was not like him to be late for appointments, much less miss them entirely.  

     Her worry grew when she found his office empty. She was about to leave and look elsewhere when she heard a faint noise from the room above, like a faint rustling. Arinae frowned and crossed to the ladder. Surely he couldn’t still be in bed…?

      A cough from above set her scurrying up the ladder, where she found Cullen sitting at the edge of his bed with one boot on and the rest of his clothes in disarray. The paperwork he’d obviously been trying to read lay strewn all over the bed and the floor beside him was littered with handkerchiefs. His skin was pale, but his eyes and nose were red and his curls stuck to his forehead with sweat.

       “I was just getting up,” he muttered, passing a hand over his eyes. He half rose from the bed but immediately sat back down amidst a fit of coughing. When Arinae sat next to him and put her hand on his forehead, his eyes closed and he leaned into the touch.

       “Cullen, you’re burning up,” she exclaimed. “How long have you been like this?

       "Since yesterday afternoon. I think.”

        “And of course you didn’t tell anyone you were sick. Thank the Creators you didn’t try to climb down the ladder today.” Arinae swept the papers off the bed and pushed gently on Cullen’s chest. “Lie down.

       "No, I have work to do. I’m behind as it is,” he protested, but let himself be guided back onto the pillows. Arinae pulled his boot off and then pulled the covers over him before tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

       “You’re going to stay here and rest and let me worry about you for once.” She fixed him with a stern look that her Keeper would have been proud of. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.” 

      Arinae was only gone a short time, but she found Cullen dozing fitfully when she climbed back up the ladder to his room. After unbuckling the picnic hamper from her back and setting it on the floor, she took a damp cloth from the washbasin and laid it on Cullen’s forehead.

      “Maker, that feels good,” he murmured, leaning into her touch. But then he curled up suddenly into another fit of coughing, and when Arinae took the cloth away, she noticed that he was shivering. She frowned and opened up the picnic hamper, drawing out a sealed clay jar full of tea.

      “Can you sit up?” she asked. “It would help you to drink this. It has all sorts of nasty medicinal herbs in it, but I added plenty of honey and lemon.” When Cullen managed to pull himself up, she pressed the cup gently into his hands. “Drink it up while it’s hot.”

      She watched Cullen wrinkle his nose as he put the jar to his lips. Satisfied that he’d at least tried it, Arinae turned around to unpack the rest of the hamper. First, a lidded bowl tied firmly shut with string, then a few bottles of tonic, bundles of dried herbs, a large clear bottle of water, and finally a bundle of fresh handkerchiefs. When she sat back down on the bed, Cullen’s eyelids were drooping.

       “Can you eat some soup?” She ran a hand over his forehead again. It was still hot, but not as clammy. The tea was already doing its work. 

      “You brought me soup?” he asked after a few beats.

      “Yes, that’s what people eat when they’re sick,” she said patiently, a smile tugging at her lips.

       “No one’s taken care of me like this since I was a boy,” Cullen muttered, closing his fevered eyes and sinking down into the pillows again. Arinae barely caught his half empty jar of tea before he dropped it all over the bed. 

      “I suppose you’re overdue, then,” she said quietly. She planted a gentle kiss on his temple, wondering how such a little thing could make her heart ache with love.


	8. The Mysterious Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arinae stumbles across a strange mirror hidden inside Skyhold, and a deadly adventure unfolds

     Arinae squinted at the tiny opening cut into Skyhold’s garden wall. Workmen fortifying the main tower had stumbled on this secret room earlier in the day, but they had all been too afraid to go in. Not that she blamed them - the air around it felt a little colder and the noonday sun did not seem to cut through the darkness inside.

      “Well, shall we go have a look?” she said with more confidence than she felt. 

       “Perhaps we should wait until our soldiers can search it and declare it safe,” Cullen remarked with a frown.

       “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m sure it’s nothing but another dusty old library or store room.” Dorian clapped him on the shoulder and pushed past to bow toward Arinae with a flourish. “After you, my lady.”

      “After you,” she laughed. “I left my staff upstairs, I need you to be our light.” She waved him ahead and heard Cullen sigh behind her while he loosened his sword in its sheath. They followed the flame bobbing at the end of Dorian’s staff down a long flight of stairs. A few soldiers trailed behind them, muttering nervously. The air grew colder the further they went, until their breath puffed in crystalline clouds.

     Finally, the stairs leveled and they reached a tiny chamber with walls of rough-cut stone. A long, narrow mirror leaned against one wall, but otherwise, the room was empty. As Arinae stepped in after Dorian, she noticed a faint but eerie blue glow emanating from the mirror’s surface.

    “Well, do you think it’s some variety of eluvian?” Dorian finally said, unable to keep the fascination out of his voice. He leaned close to the mirror without touching it. “There are marks all over the rim, look here.”

     Arinae crouched down next to him. “It’s smaller than any eluvian I’ve seen. But… these marks here are ancient elvhen! My Keeper taught me that one, and that one too. They’re for binding, but the rest I don’t recognize.”

      “That’s strange,” murmured Dorian, “because these here are old Tevene. Now why would they be together on the same mirror?” 

       “I can’t read them, but these along the top look like the dwarven inscriptions we’ve seen on the Wounded Coast. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

      “Forgive me for interrupting,” said Cullen. “But whatever it is, Inquisitor, it is best left alone until we know for sure what it is.” Arinae couldn’t help smiling a little as she stood. Cullen looked as tense as a cat who had been splashed with water.

     “You’re right,” she said. “We need to get Solas and Madame Vivienne down here, they may have some insight. I’ll go find Dagna too.”

       Dorian led the way up the stairs again while Arinae brought up the rear. She’d only gone up one step when she heard a voice behind her. She spun, breathing hard, but the room remained empty. The whispering sound grew louder, and the air practically vibrated with latent magic. Too late, Arinae realized that something was pulling her bodily closer to the mirror, scraping her feet slowly over the stone floor. She opened her mouth to scream, but like a nightmare, nothing but a gasp came out. The insidious whispering filled her head, drowning out any spell she might have summoned, and her feet still dragged inexorably across the floor. Just in front of the mirror, she pitched forward and both hands slapped against the surface.

     With a blinding flash of blue-white light and terrible feeling of pulling forward and inward, Arinae opened her eyes _on the other side of the mirror._

      It was like looking into a tall window - she could see the doorway and the stairs where she’d been just moments before. Behind her was a tiny, closet-sized space banded with iron and glowing runes of lyrium. There was barely enough room to stretch her arms sideways.

      A despair demon rose up slowly on the other side of the glass, leering at her through its needle teeth and clutching its rags around its hunched shoulders.

       “Finally free,” it sighed in a long, drawn-out hiss. 

      Arinae screamed and slashed at the glass with lightning, but the spell puffed into nothing. The demon cackled out a puff of ice as she tried lobbing a fireball with the same fizzling effect.

      “Struggle all you like,” the demon giggled, a terrible rasping sound like dead leaves scraping over stone. “The runes that kept me trapped and cancelled my magic will now do the same to you. Ahh, I have spent centuries marshaling enough strength to lure someone down to free me. And now… delicious despair will be mine to feast on.” Suddenly its head cocked towards the stairs, listening for something.

    “Arinae? Are you still down here?” Her heart clenched because it was _Cullen’s_ voice. She screamed louder and beat her hands against the glass, tried again to summon a spell, but her magic flickered and died on her fingertips. 

      “No one can hear you in there.” The demon’s form shifted and melted until a perfect copy of of Arinae stood before the mirror. “Time to feed,” it whispered in her voice.

      Cullen ducked into the room. “Are you all right? I turned around and you weren’t behind me anymore.”

      “Just examining the mirror more closely,” the thing shrugged. Arinae watched in horror as Cullen bent his head to kiss the demon’s cheek.

      “You had me worried. Dorian was saying there may be something dangerous inside it. I don’t like having it down here. If it were up to me, we’d smash it and have done with it.”

      “Oh yes, you would, wouldn’t you? Honestly, you’re so _irrational_ when it comes to magic.”

       Cullen flinched back as if he’d been struck. “Love, what - ”

 _“Enough._ I can’t stand this anymore, Cullen.”

       Pain quickly followed the shock on his face as he struggled to keep his composure. Arinae screamed until her throat was raw, but he kept looking at the _thing_  wearing her face. “I don’t… I don’t understand. Why would you -”

      “I mean,” the demon said quietly, affecting sadness. “I no longer wish for your company. This… what we have between us, it needs to end.”

       Cullen went deathly pale, and Arinae could see his hands shaking. “Why are you saying this?”

      “I can’t pretend anymore. I’m tired of hearing about your problems with lyrium and how you can’t seem to get over your past. And I suppose we’ve had a nice dalliance, but you’re a human. Handsome enough, but you’re too different from me. We simply have no future.”

    Arinae could see Cullen struggling to keep his emotions under control. “Forgive me,” he finally choked out. “It seems I have been… very much mistaken in many things - that is, I have work to do.” He turned and walked quickly out of the room, his uneven breathing receding up the stairs. Arinae sank to her knees, barely able to breath herself. She _had_  to get out. One hand went to the knife inside her boot, working it free with her fingers.

     “De-licious,” the demon purred, turning back toward the mirror. “I have not tasted such agony in ages. And your turn will come soon,” it added. “Do not think I’ll let such an opportunity go to waste.” Its form twisted and shimmered again until a perfect copy of Cullen stood before her. “Physical bodies are so delicate, but you’ll provide me with some nourishment before you waste away. Not as entertaining, perhaps, but I need what strength I can get before I venture out into the world again.”

       Arinae stood and slashed her knife across the lyrium-worked rune closest to her. As she’d feared, the impact immediately started to melt the knife, but she stabbed down hard at the next one. The knife shattered completely at the third rune, but she felt the wards weakening, enough to summon a spirit blade to her hand and plunge it forward into the glass.

       For a brief second, she was afraid it hadn’t worked, that the runes were doing their job after all, but suddenly the mirror shattered outward into millions of shards. They rained over the demon, who lost its hold on Cullen’s form and stumbled backwards, shrieking in pain. Arinae leaped forward and plunged the spirit blade through its chest. At the same moment another sword impaled it from the back, cutting off its dying scream. 

      Cullen and Arinae stared at each other before she tipped forward and flung her arms around his neck, breathing shakily and burying her face into his furred collar. Immediately he dropped his sword and his arms came up around her. “I was halfway up the stairs when I heard my own voice and I knew something was wrong - did it hurt you?”

       She shook her head, and then, because it had to be said, “You believed what that thing was saying. You thought I would say those things to you.”

        She felt him exhale. “How was I to know?” 

      “Those words weren’t mine, Cullen.” She pulled back to look at him and smooth the lines on his forehead with one hand. “And they shouldn’t be yours either. You are so much more than you think. I wish I could show you how much I need you.” She kissed him gently, more to soothe and reassure than anything, and felt him pulling her closer.

      “That’s a good way to start,” he said quietly, and kissed her again before they walked up the stairs into the sunlight.


End file.
